Free Scholar: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio by L. E. Modesitt Page A

close to two quints before the patrollers left. He still had no idea why the patroller and his partner had decided to go after him. He’d been polite, and he hadn’t done a single thing except walk down the pier with a duffel. Years before, he’d never had any trouble in Nacliano. Why now?
    Once the crowd above slowly dispersed, he eased his way to the other side of the pier, still holding shields, and made his way inshore, half-swimming, half-pulling himself hand over hand along the stone foundations, sometimes having to squeeze through the narrow spaces between pier supports and hulls, until he finally found a ladder up the side of one of the stone pier supports. He took his time climbing it because, while his shield might conceal him, he’d still be leaving a trail of water behind.
    He simply rested on the top of the ladder, out of the way, watching and listening, but he saw no patrollers, and the various vendors, loaders, and teamsters traveling the pier appeared to have forgotten the commotion that had occurred half a glass earlier.
    Once his browns had dried enough that water droplets did not leave a trail, Quaeryt climbed from the ladder to the edge of the pier and, still holding his concealment shield, walked slowly toward the base of the pier.
    Two patrollers walked back and forth on the stone causeway beyond the end of the pier, glancing along it, clearly still looking for Quaeryt.
    “Haelan … he drowned.… Even if he didn’t, he’s not going to walk down here toward us.…”
    “Scholars … Duultyn said they were trouble … as bad as Pharsi traders or imagers.”
    “Duultyn’s pretty hard on ’em,” offered the younger patroller.
    “Don’t matter. Can’t have anyone attacking patrollers.”
    “Suppose not.…”
    “You don’t want Duultyn saying you love scholars. Next thing you know…”
    Quaeryt eased by the pair unseen and slowly made his way toward the next pier. There were no patrollers at its base and he walked more quickly out toward the far end where the Azurite was berthed. He passed a brig and a barque, both with Telaryn ensigns, and then a Ferran brig. When he came to where the Azurite had been … the berth was empty.
    He stood there looking at the Azurite sailing slowly out into the harbor.
    What vessel leaves port in midafternoon? The winds are better in the morning and evening.
    That might well be, but the Azurite was gone, and there was no help for it. He’d have to try Captain Fhular and the Regia Nord  … if the coaster even happened to be ported at the present.
    His browns were almost dry, enough so that most wouldn’t notice, even if his feet felt like they were still sloshing inside his boots. Still holding concealment shields, he eased along the side of the pier until he was in the shadow of a bollard, where he released the shields, several yards from where three loaders stood, watching as two dray horses pulled a wagon slowly toward the two-masted schooner in the berth inboard from where the Azurite had been. He was a little light-headed, both from his exertions in escaping the two patrollers and from having to hold the shields as long as he had.
    One of the loaders turned and looked at Quaeryt, a puzzled expression on his face.
    “I was trying to reach the Azurite before she cast off,” the scholar explained.
    “The jewel ships don’t wait for no one.”
    “Have you seen the Regia Nord ?”
    “Fhular’s boat? Nah … hasn’t ported yet.”
    “Or the Moon’s Son ?”
    “Haven’t seen Chexar’s boat lately. Fhular left for Shacchal, let’s see, day before yesterday.” He turned to the man beside him. “Was on Samedi, wasn’t it?”
    “What was?”
    “Fhular leavin’, coldass.”
    “Coldass, yourself. Yah … Samedi.”
    “Loaders!” called the teamster.
    “You know if the schooner there is headed north?” asked Quaeryt.
    The loader shrugged.
    Quaeryt took a deep breath.
    He’d have to cover all the piers to discover if any ships were